A Man's Promise
by Ella D. Scottson
Summary: Ron struggles to get over Hermione being tortured. So he makes a promise that he refuses to break, no matter what. RW/HG Rated T for language, probably rated a bit high.
1. Chapter 1

A Man's Promise

Part One: Regrets

It was cold, but he was numb already. A half moon hovered over the dark night, hidden behind thin smokey clouds that drifted eerily over the vast black ocean. Waves crashed against the rocky shore, getting louder and louder as the night grew older and the tide crept higher. The breezes were constant and heavily laden with a cold mist brought in from the north.

"_What else did you take? Answer me! Crucio!"_

"_We didn't take anything! I swear!"_

It all seemed like a horrible nightmare now, but Ron could only wish that it had been. Her screams still rang through him like a violent electric shock that pulsated through his nervous system. He had never felt so helpless, so useless and trapped. He had never been tortured before, and he had counted himself lucky, but he would have been more grateful if Bellatrix had abided by his pleas to take Hermione's place. Ron doubted the curse would have caused him any more pain than listening to Hermione's screams and have no way to help her or comfort her.

"_What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth, or I swear I shall run you through with this knife!" _The image of that knife against her neck and the blood the coursed from beneath the jagged blade came to him as clearly as though he was staring at it in present time. He shut his eyes tight, cupping his hands over his face and dropping back into the sand.

He opened his eyes after a moment and saw Harry stumbling down the rocky hill that lead from the cottage down the beach. Ron sat up slowly. Harry had said Voldemort's name even though he knew it was tabooed, even Ron had warned him Death Eaters would come the moment the name was spoken, but he had said it anyway. Suddenly burning with anger, Ron scrambled to his feet and bolted across the beach, stumbling slightly as his feet slid in the sand. "You didn't give a damn!" he bellowed as he reached Harry, "I told you they would come, and you went ahead and said his name anyway! Just because you're famous Harry Potter, you think you can do whatever the hell you want!" Ron grabbed Harry's shoulders and threw him to the ground furiously. "She could have died tonight because of you, you selfish bastard!"

"Ron, I'm sorry!" Harry begged, staring up at him with frightened.

Harry's apology passed right through him, leaving no trace of itself, like it wasn't even said. "'Ron, shut up, we need a plan! Shut up Ron!'" He continued, perusing Harry as he back away, "I wanted to help! I wanted to get her out! Comfort her! But you didn't care! All you cared about was the stupid house elf!"

"You know that's not true!" Harry shouted back, dodging Ron's fist, "Hermione's like my sister! Hearing her being tortured was just as bad for me-"

"To hell it was!" Ron growled loudly, "You don't love her like I do! You couldn't possibly understand what that was like for me to sit there and listen to her make sounds like that and be in pain like that and know you can't fix it!" Harry stepped back away from Ron, but Ron's surge of anger was fading, so he didn't go after him. "Why did you come down here?" he asked weakly.

Harry sighed shoving his hands in his pockets, "Just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Fear replaced the anger quickly as Ron search for a motive to Harry's own apology, "Why? Is she dead?" Harry immediately shook his head and opened his mouth to speak, but Ron didn't really care about what he had to say. "Can I just be alone?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah, I guess," Harry said darkly, "But she'll be fine, and it wasn't you fault."

"Oh, I know," Ron muttered furiously, turning away slowly and walking back to the sand, where he fell to he knees and tried to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

A Man's Promise

Part Two: She's the Nightmare

A full moon hid behind the thick storm clouds hover in the horizon. Blacker than Satan's rich velvet, they stretched in a menacing viscidity over a frozen forest, rumbling with quiet thunder. Glassy grass lashed as whips in the eerie midnight, thrashing violently in a moaning October wind. Deadening trees towered over the fog that bound their trunks in an unrelenting chill as frozen rain fell and cut them away into nothing.

Ron stood weakly in the storm, he knees trembling as the hail hacked away the skin on his face, and tearing the stitching of his coat. He watched the cyan bolts of lightening touch to the earth in front of him like a heart beat. The ground shook under him with it newly found pulse, and he was in a trance, amazed, in awe of it all.

"Ron!" a scream cut through him and chills coursed up his spine as he was brought back to his surroundings, "Ron! Please!" The cracked beneath him as he ran towards the desperate voice screaming out his name, but he kept running, leaping over the trees dropping front of him, weaving through bramble as they came alive and clutched to jeans, and dodging the lightening bolts as they struck at him.

A cold voice hissed over another set of the girl's screams, "What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth, or I swear I shall run you through with this knife!" He was getting closer, but so were the streaks of electricity that grew greener as the screams grew louder.

Distracted by the noises around him, Ron didn't notice the ground sink in front of him, but he kept running regardless. His body was thrown over the edge as he tried jumping, but as he moved forward, so did the earth.

"Ron! Please!"

He shot straight up, feeling for the sand of the beach beneath him and the mist breeze coming in off the cold ocean. It had been the seventh time he had woken up in a panic caused by the same terrible nightmare. He rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply, gazing around at the peaceful setting of Shell Cottage, and after realizing he wasn't going to get a wink of relaxing, of enjoyable sleep, he got to his feet and began meandering wearily down the beach.

Popping the collar of his coat to block the wind from freezing his throat, Ron shoved his numb hands deep into his pockets and stared up at the small cottage, noticing the kitchen light up, bringing a smile to his face. Bill was probably up eating the ham left over from dinner.

"Ron! Help! Please!" The smile dropped from him like a heavy weight as he turned and saw Hermione being held by her hair with a crooked black wand pointed at her chest. He rubbed his eyes desperately, convinced he was just tired, or hallucinating, but Bellatrix was sneering at him after his fists fell from his eyes. "Ron!" Hermione screamed again as a blinding green flashed across the beach and waters. He wailed desperately as her limp body dropped at her murder's feet.

"Ron!" gentle hands suddenly were clutching his shoulders and shaking him back and forth, "Ron! Are you alright?" He fell silent immediately, soon realizing he had indeed been hallucinating, and he hadn't just seen Hermione's murder happen as he stood and did nothing. She was standing right in front of him, staring up at him with wide brown eyes. "Why are you screaming?" she asked, appearing completely befuddled and panicked.

"I woke you," he sighed weakly, exasperated by his inability to handle his bazar and completely on realistic images, "I'm sorry." He felt terrible for waking her up with his shouting and hollering; she of all people should have been sleeping right now. "I'll help you back to your room. You need to get some sleep. You probably shouldn't even walking around."

As he bent down to lift her into his arms, she placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped back to avoid his arms. "I was already awake," she smiled softly as Ron stood back up straight, "Harry had been making a ruckus in the bathroom trying to stop a nose bleed." Even though the night was dark and nearly impossible to see through, Ron knew the look Hermione must've have been giving him. She disapproved him for punching Harry with a raised eyebrow, she was probably slightly flushed from being flattered, and under that was most likely amused by his boyish anger management.

He also knew the words that she would speak next, though he did not wait for her to say them, and he spoke them first. "I need to talk to you," he whispered nervously as she opened her mouth to speak.


	3. Chapter 3

A Man's Promise

Part Three: Confessions of a Ginger

He also knew the words that she would speak next, though he did not wait for her to say them, and he spoke them first. "I need to talk to you," he whispered nervously as she opened her mouth to speak.

They walked down the beach together, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, which he had convinced himself he was doing it merely to help her walk, though she held him just as tight around his waist.

"How did you do it," Ron asked quietly, setting her down in the sand slowly. He sat down beside her, brushing his hands on his jeans to get the sand off his skin. "I know I wouldn't have been able to come up with that story if I was being tortured."

Hermione stared at him blankly as though she hadn't a clue what he was talking about. "What story?" she asked curiously.

Ron blinked dumbly in confusion; she was the one who came up with the tale, and she was the who had made it so convincing. "You know," he explained stupidly, "the one about the sword being a fake. It was brilliant." He sounded more like he was asking her about what she had told Bellatrix, as her brow wrinkled, making her look utterly confused. "You don't remember?" he asked slowly. Hermione shook her head, looking away sharply as if she was embarrassed. Ron stared at the back of her head for a moment, feeling terrible and helpless again. "Well," he mumbled, awkwardly patting her shoulder as if telling her a game well played, "It was amazing, very convincing."

That sat in silence for a moment, both looking in any direction beside at each other. Ron stared at the sand, etching little faces and hearts into the soft grains with his index finger, as Hermione rolled a small pebble around in her hand. "Were you afraid?" she asked finally, her voice quite hesitant and awkwardly timid. Ron frantically scrubbed her name that he had written in the sand, feeling the weight of her stare hit the side of his face.

"Uhhh..." he mumbled hopeless, as he felt his face begin to burn, "no. No I was fine. I had to keep it together for Harry's sake; poor bloke was a mess worrying about you. It was quite sad actually very sad to watch." Hermione nodded slowly, taking Ron by surprise. There was no chance she just believed that; he was a dreadful liar, but she appeared to take his story without fuss. Another vast, uncomfortable silence swept over as Ron's began racing. "Of course I was scared!" he wailed, nearly knocking Hermione to the ground with surprise, "I was bloody petrified!" He scrambled to his feet and started pacing in front of her, clutching his untidy ginger hair and rubbing the back of his neck like Lupin had months ago at Number 12. "You were just screaming in pain, and the only holding me back from saving you was a stupid floor! All I wanted to was get to you and help you and comfort you, but I couldn't because of Malfoy's damn charm! And Harry kept telling me to shut it! He didn't understand! I had never felt so useless in my entire life! Then Greyback was going to kill you, and I was so worried I wasn't going to get to you in time! You were going to die and it was all my fault! Then I just sat in the middle of Bill's kitchen praying to God that you would wake up, but you didn't. You were bleeding all over, and your lips were blue, and your face was white, and your blood was all over my hands, and my sleeves and my face! After Bill took you away from me, I just sat there and cried, then I ran to the bathroom and threw up! I tore off my coat and threw in the sink to wash off the blood. I wanted to see you, but if you were gone I- I just... I couldn't... I couldn't... just couldn't do it." His faded away into the sounds of water splashing onto the sand, as he dragged his feet and fell weakly to his knees and began sobbing quietly. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling her arms wrap around his neck and her shoulder tuck under his chin as she held him tight, "I tried to be brave, but I was so afraid the I had lost you." He sat trembling in her arms, holding her equally as tight, burying his face in her hair. "I'm sorry Hermione," Ron murmured desperately, "I'm so sorry. I just-"

"It's not your fault," she whispered loving, pulling away from him.

But he couldn't let her go.


End file.
